No More Donations

The view from the end of the Drive-Thru Nativity

By Inyoung Curry

This year’s Drive-Thru Nativity felt different to me from the very beginning. There were updated signs, new scenes, and it was just the second year of the reversed traffic pattern; yet none of those were the most jarring difference for me.

I volunteered at the very end of the line on the first night, directing traffic and thanking people for visiting the Nativity. The driver of one of the first cars that came out stopped, held out some money, and asked Pastor Matt, who was standing on the other side of the exit, “Is this where we give donations?” I was surprised to hear his response.

“Oh, thank you, but we’re not taking donations anymore. We just want the Nativity to be a gift to our neighbors, so thanks for joining us. Please come back anytime.”

I was stunned. Churches always need money. Ministries run on it. Outreach depends on it. As someone who has been part of the church my whole life, I quietly wondered if not taking donations was… “wise.”

As that first car pulled away, I asked Pastor Matt in disbelief, “We aren’t taking donations at the end anymore?”

His reply: “We don’t want the experience to feel like a transaction. We just want people to leave having received a gift without feeling like they ‘settled up’ at the end.”

I watched him say the same thing over and over again, trying not to think about how much money was not being given to the church that could fund the many ways that we make a difference at Heritage. We took turns being on the “talking side” of the exit, and soon it was my turn to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and refuse their donations over and over.

Everyone was surprised. Many were confused. Some were insistent. At first, as I said them the words felt strange and unnatural. As the night went on, however, something shifted. With every car, I realized that it felt right—it felt good!—to say it.

Standing there in the cool night air, watching families smile and children point toward the live animals, I felt the weight of the realization. How often do we get to experience something beautiful and be assured that it’s free? Free of guilt? Free of obligation? Free of wondering if what we paid was enough?

Each “donor” left with the same message: Your presence is enough. Taking the time to come, to slow down, to receive the gift of the baby Jesus born in a manger—that’s enough.

In that moment, standing at the end of the line, I realized I wasn’t just directing traffic. I was helping tell the end of the Christmas story the way it’s supposed to end. A Savior given freely. Love given unconditionally. Joy given to the whole world on a silent night long ago—with no repayment required.